


Foreign Relations

by Sagartolen



Series: Hetalia: plot-bunnies [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Cold War, Contracts, Developing Relationship, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Personification, Slow Build, United Kingdom, World War II, country personification
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagartolen/pseuds/Sagartolen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England and Russia find themselves in an unexpected position when their governments decide to rekindle long lost diplomatic ties with a shiny new foreign policy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably very inaccurate

“It’s a bloody outrage!”

England flung himself through the door and into Wales’ kitchen barley stopping to register the frozen expression on the other’s face and Scotland’s own presence in the room. 

“Mutiny! I’ve been compromised. Spies and backstabbers! IT IS A FUCKING DISARSTER!” He screeched, waving a folder in the air. 

Wales, his mouth open in mid conversation, blinked.

“This one’s all yours brother,” Scotland patted Wales firmly on the shoulder, standing from the table and brushing himself off. 

Wales spluttered, turning to Scotland, “Hey, wait just a…”

“Oh no you don’t,” England marched up to the table, slamming the folder down, the table buckled, “This is just as much your bloody problem as it is mine!” 

“Hey, I like this table,” Wales protested. Scotland frowned, pausing and looking ready to say something irritable. 

“IT’S A TRAVESTY. A nightmare. And from my own government!” England plowed on, before the other had a chance to comment, making wild gestures. 

“Ahrr! Shut up,” Scotland broke, “Just tell us what’s wrong already.” He rubbed his ears in frustration. 

With no small amount of effort England reigned in his emotions. Calm down! He needed to calm down. Aggressively, he pulled the offending documents from their folder and practically tossed them in Scotland and Wales’ direction. 

“See for yourself,” he snapped, turning away from the table. He could not bear to look upon the confounded thing a moment longer. Wales pulled the paper towards him and Scotland wondered over, bending down next to the other’s head in an effort to read. Slowly both nations’ expressions morphed into ones of shock and disbelief. 

……… Five Hours Earlier……….. 

England awoke feeling better than he had in a long time. The lingering ache, which had been plaguing him for the last few years, seamed to have lessoned. That heavy blanket of fatigue, which had been clouding his mind, had lightened, leaving him clear headed. He almost bounced down the stairs in his relief, startling his secretary who had been on his way up, probably to give him his wake up call. He had tried setting alarms but nothing had seemed to work, his fatigue and weariness being too great to be broken by a mere electronic devise. 

That was the problem with large, destructive wars, the aftermath was almost always as bad as the actual war itself. And World War Two had been the worst of them all. He had given so much, used too many of his resources, lost too many of his men. What he was left with was a mountain of debt and a lot of rebuilding.  
England was sick of being tired, of having to sleep practically all the time in an effort to weather the continued financial difficulties and infrastructure problems his country was facing. Not only was he rebuilding his own country after all the damage it had taken but he was also enduring Europe’s financial crisis as almost everyone found themselves commercially destitute upon the conclusion of the war. It was not the best of situations. 

And this bloody Cold War was not exactly helping matters. The constant threat of being blown off the face of the earth was defiantly something he could live without. Then there was that bloody Western Block cutting off half of Europe, which was doing no one any favors. Communism, fear and disorder, it was all creating insurmountable amounts of instability. 

In all his long years as a personification he had never seen something so destructive or horrifying as that bomb and he had centuries worth of battle experience to draw upon. Something which could pretty much end a nation in a single devastating blow. He was scared. Everyone was. God, the whole situation was one problem after another. He was angry at both Russia, for being his usual impersonal and anti-social self, and at America for creating the situation and forcing even more conflict atop the issues already plaguing him. 

England sighed, folding his newspaper and setting down his cup. Around him cafe buzzed as people prepared for another day of work. Today was different. He could feel it in his bones. It had been the first time he had woken early and under his own power in quite a while. Perhaps it had something to do with America’s call for an open dialogue with the USSR or the fact that Russia’s economic position was crumbling, foreshadowing the renewed opening of borders. The fact that all this uncertainty seamed to be heading towards a conclusion, which did not involve getting obliterated. Or maybe it showed that his country really was getting back on its feet, having successfully weathered the crisis. Whatever it was, he felt lighter. There was always the possibility that it heralded the beginning of something big. Though the thought worried him slightly, he could not help but feel positive about the new development. 

So, with a bounce to his step, he strolled into the Houses of Parliament, fully intending to spend his new energy, catching up on all the decision-making, bills and topics of debate that he had yet to attend to. 

Of course, he never quite made it to his office. 

“Mr. Kirkland,” he glanced to the side, noting the approach of one of the senior secretaries. George Smith a fine young man working for the Security Head.

“Your presence has been requested by the head of the Security Commission,” he was presented with a document.

England, frowning, handed Smith his briefcase so he could open the unmarked yellow envelope. Honestly, he had just arrived what could possibly be so pressing that it needed his immediate attention. Someone as high up as Security Head should know how ridiculously busy he was. 

The letter was encoded. Not an uncommon practice, especially with all the paranoia running rampant. It did not have a huge impact on himself, he had years of experience encoding and decoding, but it did tend to slow down proceedings considerably. 

“Hmm?” England scanned the paper, noting the time and location of the meeting. 

Slight irritation, at the lack of warning, briefly distracted him. He hated not getting proper time to respond and prepare for such things. However, the message asked for England, representative of the United Kingdom, not Arthur Kirkland, the important if not somewhat forgettable member of the British government, so it must be important. 

He thanked Smith, who returned his case, and headed too the meeting room. While he walked he ran though all the possible topics for the meeting. His Security Commission was in charge of government confidentiality, security and overseeing liaisons with other countries, particularly the USSR and America. There had been no spy scares recently and currently all foreign relations were running as smoothly as one could hope. 

When he entered the meeting room he was greeted with the Head of the Security Commission, the Minister of Foreign Relations and the Secretary of Defense. He knew all of them to some degree. All ambitious men in there own right and had done a lot of work in the rebuilding his country. To see them all sitting in the same room together was somewhat foreboding. He scanned them all, focusing on the subtle emotional fluctuations, which all humans produced. They were nervous. England sat himself down, suddenly very weary of the situation. 

Without word he was presented with a large folder filled with several bound booklets. 

The first thing that caught his attention upon opening the folder was the chunky heading. 

“The Union of the, ‘United Kingdom,’ and, ‘United Soviet Socialists Republics,’ and foreign policy agreement.” 

And did that not just set off a myriad of alarm bells. What sort of title was that? With some trepidation and a healthy about of confusion England scanned the first page summery. 

The first few pages were just as confusing as the title. 

‘A common external trade policy.’ As in shared trade regulation and standaised interaction with Russia?

‘Introduction of free trade and the free movement of goods and services.’ What the heck? How would that work? 

‘Joint naval cooperation and military alliance.’ He froze as the words leapt of the page. Oh dear me. 

He would have to be stupid not to understand what this was. It was the groundwork for a new alliance with the USSR. 

What the bloody hell! He continued flipping through the sections, apprehension growing. There was a lot of information filled with clauses and implementation strategies. There were also amendments from the Russians. So did that mean the Russian and English governments had been liaising without his knowledge? How in the bloody hell had they managed that with all the paranoia currently crippling international relations? 

How long had they been working on this? Who had worked on this? Why was he only hearing about it now?

Despite what many thought Country Personifications were not omniscient. Sure they had a vast well of knowledge and experience but that was to be expected when one lived a few hundred years. Their true power and value lay in their ability to feel the will of the people. From the individual to the public masses he could sense them all. 

Important things did come to him instinctively, like his in-depth knowledge of London’s streetscape, his comprehensive understanding of English Law and Government and he his sixth sense concerning to events of importance happening or about to happen. However, if he wished to remain completely up-to-date in the goings on of his country, he still needed to make an effort to search out the truth and keep himself, informed. He liked to think he had become rather good at it over the years. Anger began to creep into his stomach. To keep something like this from him would have required a considerable amount work.  
England almost growled, struggling to keep his temper in check. 

“We have been rearming at a persistent rate since the end of the war in  
preparation for a confrontation with Russia. Labour and resources have gone into making this country as defensible as possible. This has been on top of financial problems.” 

He paused. 

“And you are telling me that my government has been working, in secret, on a diplomatic solution and foreign agreement.” 

There was a lot of shifting from the men in the room. 

“It opens up new trade regions, regions that have not been opened to the West for years. Russia has one of the biggest arsenals in the world. If we go through with this pact, and present it correctly to the Americans, then we will be in good favor with both of the world’s leading superpowers,” Hardy, Security Head, said with surety. 

Yes, they would certainly need to ‘present it correctly’ to the Americans as, currently, it looked like the biggest fuck you to democracy that he could possibly think of. If not all that work he had been doing with America in order to curry financial and military aid would be for nothing. 

“This is not going to work,” he began again, “Our governments have not trusted each other in years. Trade is one thing but how do you expect to reach common ground on a foreign policy. ”

Him and Russia had not gotten along well in years. Even when they were allies’ they had harbored unhealthy amounts of distrust towards each other. 

“We are looking at the end of the Iron Curtin,” he was interrupted before he could continue. The statement coursed him to pause. 

“This is all well and good,” he snipped stiffly, stifling his anger. There would be time for that later, “But I fail to see why this is the first I have heard of such a drastic proposal.”

The ice in his voice made the rooms occupants freeze as if caught in a spotlight. Good, they deserved to squirm.

“The Americans have several spy’s within the government. Not to mention the rumors of Russian sleeper agents who might not be to forward in their thinking. If this was discovered prematurely by the wrong party, before we had all the details ironed out, it would have caused an international outcry.” 

“That does not explain why I, this country’s own personification, was not informed.” 

England gritted his teeth. He was well aware of the sort of international trouble this could cause. 

“You have to understand sir. Nothing was confirmed or set in stone until several days ago. It has been very touch and go so we did not want to bother you when we were not even sure it would result in anything.” 

“I deserve to be informed.” England snapped. They did not appear to fully grasp the fact that, in failing to inform him, they a severely undermined his position. If governments began working independently from within it could cause anything from a personality split to civil wars. Not to mention it made him look incompetent. 

“No matter,” England eyed all of them in distaste, “it is still not going to work. The people of England are not ready for something like this. Not after the amount of anti-Soviet propaganda they have had shoved down their throats in the last few years. You announce this and there will be rioting in the streets.” 

All four men looked uneasy for a second.

“We realize there will be some difficulties.”

Understatement of the decade. 

“Which is why,” Hardy began slowly, “We want you to personally sign the agreement,’

“What,” England snapped. He could not believe he was hearing this. 

If he personally signed something like this he would be obligated, no matter his personal opinion, to see it through to the best of his abilities. A country personification did not sign anything lightly. Once signed it would be very hard to undo and would require the creation of a whole new document and the agreement of both parties in order to adequately nullify it. Which was hard because the two parties had to be in complete agreement, which was almost as unlikely as two counties agreeing to sign an original document in the first place. 

Most of the time agreements like this were forcefully broken when times and people changed, making anything signed harder and harder to follow. It never resulted in anything good for the one breaking it. 

It was like a more permanent contract. This life changing document was simply too much to digest in such a small amount of time.

“Now we realize that that is a lot to ask. We have yet to hear word from the Russian government on whether Mr. Banisky will be willing to consider the action but we would like you to consider it.” 

“This is not something to be asked lightly,” England said stiffly, figures clenching the papers before him. 

“The monarchy has approved the notion,”

“Her Majesty has approved this?” England almost stumbled on the sentence. He felt light headed. How deep did this go? Who was involved? 

“I need time to think,” England abruptly stood. 

“But sir we still have much to discuss,”

England gathered up the folder, tucking it under his arm. 

“Sir, you need to leave that behind.”

England snapped his head to the left and glared. The man backed down quickly.

He left the room, then the building as quickly and calmly as possible, holding composure as a cab took him home. Then he exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas.

“What is this shit!” Scotland snarled, slamming his fist on the table. 

Wales was still looking at the messy pile of papers with an expression of shock frozen on his face. 

“You manipulative, a sgàirt!” Scotland quickly shifted from fury to accusatory, rounding on him, “This is some sort of hidden agenda isn’t it? Regain the glory days.” 

England was quick to match Scotland’s anger.

“What are you implying,” he growled, spinning. How dare Scotland accuse him of such a betrayal. Sure, he was far for perfect, but he was not that bad. That he would even consider!

“I thought you were desperate, but man, this is just pathetic,” 

“Scotland!” Wales interrupted in a tone denoting disapproval, appearing to snap out of whatever daze he had been in. 

“WHY THE SHIT WHOULD I TELL YOU IF IT WAS MY GREAT EVIL PLAN. YOU DOUMB FUCKWARD,” England could not help but yell, his temper close to snapping. How dare he. England strolled forward, putting himself several inches from Scotland’s face. 

“I assure you,” he grit his teeth, “I am just as angry as you are.” He may be a head shorter but he was still the representative of the United Kingdom. If push came to shove he was more than a match for Scotland. 

Scotland appeared to struggle with himself for a minuet. 

“Ahr!” Scotland heatedly spun away, appearing unsure about where to direct his rage. He stomped towards the end of the table and threw himself violently into a chair. The waves of tension, which had been aggressively circling them like miniature hurricane, lessoned. 

England took a deep breath. He could relate to the anger Scotland was feeling and that need to snap, having felt something similar mere moments before during the meeting. 

Wales, looking between them, spoke up, addressing England, “You really didn’t know?” 

His voice broke some of the tension and England tore his attention from Scotland, tempering his anger further. 

“I only just found out about this myself mere hours ago. It was kept completely under wraps. God only knows how they managed that,” he answered Wales somewhat bitterly. 

“If this is some sort of joke,” Scotland started angrily, leaving the sentence hanging. 

England scowled, crossing his arms.

“Of course it’s not a bloody joke,” 

After that there was a period of unbroken silence as they all came to grips with the situation. 

“I don’t understand how anyone thought this was a good idea,” Scotland began before breaking into a string of angry Gaelic words, which England did not quite understand. 

“This has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever read and I’ve read some real stinkers in my time.”

“There is still time to change it,” England intoned, interrupting Scotland before he could really get into his rant. Then, seeing their interest, he continued with a greater vigor, “We can stop this proposal.”

Scotland nodded at the admission, appearing thoughtful.

“I’ll get the Scottish government on board,” then more forcefully added, “There’ll be rioting in the streets if I make this public.” 

“I don’t think…” Wales tried to speak but England cut him off too frustrated to listen.

“I need to raise the opposition. Get the courts involved. Rally the people,” he nodded. That was sure to put a stop on any proceedings.

“Guys,”

“If it’s done quickly it’ll stop to any future plans,” Scotland continued on from England’s point, working himself up into a righteous rage. 

“I will show them not to pull crap like this behind my back. Behind the whole countries back,” England snarled, clenching a fist. 

“LISEN TO ME!” 

The yell cut through England’s anger. Both him and Scotland froze. 

Wales took a breath, “First, going public is the last thing we want to do. It will cause an unnecessary outcry and make us all look like incompetent idiots.” 

That was true. What sort of self-respecting personification let their government run wild behind their backs. 

“Secondly, if were going to veto this then I think it should be done quietly and with little fuss. Yes, what England’s government has done is worrying but let’s not panic.”

“Thirdly, we should at least consider the proposal. It is obvious at lot of time and energy has gone into creating it.”

“And keeping it hidden,” England added resentfully. 

Scotland, still looking irritated, glanced at him before speaking again, this time with more composure. 

“We’re in the middle of a Cold War there is no way something like this could work. I don’t know about you but the current popular opinion of the USSR could not get much lower at the moment.” 

“The people fear communism,” Wales pointed out, “They fear Russia. Not to mention that it has been a long time since we have held the trust of the Russian government,” he continued with a hint of unease coloring tone. 

Wales’ worry was understandable as such strong emotions from the people did translate rather strongly to a country personification. England understood the concerns as he too felt the unease. Even with their experience it took a concerted effort not to get swept up in the hysteria of the people. Bad things happened when a country lost their sense of clarity. 

“Yes. I have already raised this issue,” England began and was cut off by Scotland.

“So what. We don’t do anything. The whole thing fails. Problem solved.”

Scotland lent forward, peering at the papers again.

Wales huffed, “I do not think it will be that simple.”

England frowned as his brothers went off on their own tangent without being sensible and waiting for him to answer their questions.

“I’d like to see a day come when it is,” Scotland grunted, digging around in his front pocket, most likely for a cigarette. 

“Of course, that’ll be the day we all retire,” Wales retorted, smiling at Scotland’s poor mood. 

Scotland snorted, flicking his lighter open, “Because that’ll be an option.”

“Yes, yes… potential retirement not withstanding,” England interrupted before they sunk into a pity party, “Wales is right in thinking that there is more to this than a document and proposal.”

Scotland took a drag of his cigarette, “Of course there is,” he muttered. 

“Well hurry up and tell us,” he blow smoke in England’s direction. 

England glowered slightly, waving the stench away in irritation, and continued speaking.

“They want me to personally sign the finished proposal.”

Wales and Scotland stared at him in disbelief. 

“Oh don’t give me that look I know precisely how ridiculous the notion is.” 

Scotland coughed several times having inhaled wrong. 

“Well thank god for that. Because signing something like this could be the death of us all.”

“Yes,” England crossed his arms sitting back in his chair, “They seem to be of the opinion that me signing something would smooth over the worst of the unease.”

“I do see why it would be in our best interests to sign a physical document,” Wales spoke, ignoring the disbelief Scotland threw his way, “Something as controversial as this will need something like a contract to give it a chance of success.”

They were all silent. They were under nt illusion that something as was drastic as this would need an extra push to succeed. If he did sign some sort of physical document it would give him the focus to put his full effort and intention into the success of the proposal. 

He had influence over his country but it was often split and varied. He had many facets and qualities of the country to focus on, different voices and opinions that needed to be acknowledged and taken into consideration. He had the power to influence the minds and hearts of his people. If he wished his country in a particular direction then the people of his nation would become impartial to that route. More people would consider it a good idea and there would be less opposition. Though the influence was week it was widespread and in times of uncertainty it could definitely become a deciding factor. 

In turn, the people of his country influenced and guided his own thoughts and actions, swaying his opinions and emotions. It was a two-way path. Therefore he was always careful to ensure that the things he decided to support were in his country’s best interests. It was a carful balancing act and he would often remove himself from proceedings altogether and wait to see where the will of his people would take him. 

A contract was a powerful symbol, which would committee himself fully and unconditionally in a particular direction. It held a lot of sway.

He glanced at Scotland and Wales, noticing the frowns on their faces, meaning they were probably thinking something along the same lines. 

“No. No contracts.” Scotland slammed his palm on the table, “They are dangerous, disastrous if worded wrong.”

“Obviously, it would be all be rather vague to provide wriggle room. You would not be signing the actual proposal,” Wales tapped the paper before him. 

“The less clear it is the less of an effect it will have,” he pointed out, thoughts drifting to different ways something like this could be worded.

“I can not believe you are discussing this,” Scotland, who had sat back, looking extremely put out.

The last time he had signed something like this had been at the formation of the United Kingdom and oh boy had that caused numerous issues over the years. It had contributed significantly to the division of Ireland into two separate personifications. And Scotland had been fighting to remove his name for the last several years in the hopes of someday becoming independent. He could not stress how binding stuff like this was. 

“I will have to get in contact with Russia before I even think of deciding anything.” Scotland was right. It was too early to be thinking about such things. 

“Good luck with that,” Scotland snapped, still in a bad mood. 

Wales wacked Scotland over the shoulder. 

Scotland scowled, batting Wales away, “And what about America and NATO. We might as well throw in the towel and declare ourselves communist. It would certainly be easer.” 

“Russia and America have been on considerably better terms,” Wales pointed out, though he did not sound completely convinced. 

Scotland chuckled, “Yeah, they’ve gone from glaring at each other and threatening world annihilation to ignoring the others existence and only implying total destruction.” 

England grimaced. Yes, they had definitely improved but there was still a lot of animosity between the two. 

“Of course we will have to spin the whole situation in our favor. We will not be ‘siding with the communists,’ we will be ‘spreading the ideals of democracy.’”

Both Scotland and Wales rolled their eyes. 

England ignored them, “There are also several additional propositions.” 

Wales nodded, pulling out the last booklet, which was covered in amendments and suggestions. 

After trying to get his head around the initial proposals mentioned these were the ones which had really caught his attention. 

“Russia pulls out of Germany and reduces his presence in East Europe and we decrease our involvement in the East Asia theatre.”

“And leave America to do god knows what over there,” Scotland snapped, turning back to the document. Scotland had a fairly low opinion of America and had been very vocal in stating how much he disapproved of England’s increasing involvement with the other country. 

“They are not very popular wars. And there has been increasing dissatisfaction among the people towards our involvement,” Wales pointed out. 

“America is a grown man I am sure he will see the advantages,” even as he said it he was still unsure. America had matured a lot over the past decade but he had become so powerful so fast and he knew all to well how that could go straight to your head. 

“The United Kingdom will not be the bad guy,” he amended, “We will be the ones that end the Cold War and restores stability.”

As he said the words be felt a surge of something; power, pride, achievement, something in between. It harkened back to the days of the empire in which he had truly believed that he was spreading the will of his nation for the betterment of all countries. And though he now knew such things did not always pan out, nor really should pan out, it was still an addictive feeling. It was the feeling that said his country was strong and prosperous and would endure into the future. 

Wales and Scotland both nodded in agreement also swept up in the emotion he was probably projecting towards them. 

“Yes,” Wales said slowly, “But we will defiantly need to be careful.”

Scotland’s forehead crinkled signifying he was deep in thought. 

They all sat in a contemplative silence.

“The name’s a pile of shit,” Scotland suddenly spoke up, ‘The Union of the United Kingdom and the Union Soviet Socialists Pact?’ You have to get that changed. There is only so many times the word union can be used in a sentence.”

England gave Scotland a look of exasperation while feeling somewhat better about the situation, having now talked it over. Maybe this would not be the disaster he had envisioned. Sure, there was the issue of the government going behind his back and the idea of a physical contract to worry about… but he now felt he could deal with these issues rationally and without causing a scene. 

He was still undecided on whether he should accept the drastic proposal. Scotland was against it and Wales seamed impartial for the time being. Of course, he did not necessarily need their approval, him being the Untied Kingdom’s representative, but it would make things easier. It was so wearily tiresome to be in constant conflict with his brothers. 

He would need to hold several more meetings with his government along with embanking on an extensive research project to come to an informed conclusion. He was not going to rush this. 

“You are going to have to inform Northern Ireland before making any further decisions,” Wales spoke, ruining his slightly improved mood. 

“That immature brat.” 

Northern Ireland rarely took anything seriously. Being far younger than the three of them it was also harder to treat Northern Ireland the same as his older brothers. That and it meant that Ireland would probably find out sooner rather than later. Northern Ireland told her almost everything. 

“Just do it,” Wales sighed. 

England did not have the energy to argue or be offended at Wales for ordering him around. He had bigger things to worry about.


End file.
